


Your Biggest Fan

by Flexor



Category: RWBY
Genre: Compartmentalisation, Fleshing out the minor characters, Loneliness, Mutilation, New Friends, anthropophagy, fanmail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9131836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flexor/pseuds/Flexor
Summary: The night of the Battle of Beacon was a bad one for all concerned, and Lisa Lavender, roving star reporter for Vale News Network, is no exception. If your day includes having your cameraman eaten in front of your eyes while he's filming you, it is not a good one.She finds her way to an SDC warehouse, where the night porter kindly lets her take shelter, and actually turns out to be a fan.It's always nice to be appreciated.





	

"So here we are. The Atlas soldiers and our own Vale huntsmen and huntresses are doing their very best to keep the citizens of Vale and our guests from other parts safe. Please make sure that you move to the safe zone near the harbour as soon as _LOOK_ _OUT_!"

Lisa Lavender screamed as a black shape fell out of the sky, grabbed her cameraman in its beak, and... No! Lisa turned and ran. 

 

Lisa remembered her first day at Vale News Network. She'd come in and officially met Cyril for the first time. Cyril had taken one look at her, a reporter fresh from Media Studies, dressed in a businesslike purple shirt, blazer, skirt...

"Take those off now," Cyril had said, pointing at her heels.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Miss Lavender," said Cyril, "there's two kinds of reporter in this world. There's those who write ten pages of copy whenever Stefani Sodding Green doesn't eat up all her greens, and so _clearly_ suffers from some eating disorder, and what this is going to mean for her relationship with whoever she's seeing these days. And then there's us. Lisa? Can I call you Lisa? You and me, we're going to report the things that really matter. We live in a _democracy_. That means that the people say what's going to happen, and it's _our_ job to make sure they know what's going on. If they get fed shit information, they're going to vote for shit ideas. It's _our_ job to show them the real deal. What's going on. You don't get that kind of information walking round on high heels in civilised places."

He'd turned round and pulled fifty lien out of the petty cash.

"Now go and buy yourself the best, most comfortable, the most _practical_ running shoes. You're going to need them."

Lisa had. And Cyril had been right. You don't want to be the human to report on Faunus riots if you can't get the hell out of there, _fast_. 'Leg work' is something entirely different from 'Showing a little leg' and Lisa had found out through bitter experience what that difference was. 

 

In the time it took the Gryphon Grimm to... Lisa fought the impulse to throw up. To _eat_ her cameraman, she made it into a narrow alley. The beast slammed into the wall, reaching for her, screeching in frustration as Lisa ran. Then, it raised up, leapt into the air. Plenty of other prey running around. Her heart pounding in her chest, Lisa crept to the far end of the alley and peeked out. She stopped. All round the Beacon Tower, a creature flew. It was large. It had no business being in the air, but there it was. As she watched, the top of the tower exploded in broken fragments. There were flashes of orange light, then a sudden bright white glare, and the dragon simply froze to the tower. The tower was the office of Head Master Ozpin of Beacon Academy. Was he taking care of business? Don't jump to conclusions Lisa, said Cyril. If it walks like a duck, looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, then it's probably just that. Something that looks like a duck. Write it down, but don't report it before it's on your plate with an orange sauce.

Looking in all directions at once, Lisa crept forward. Had to get to the safe zone. She heard noises somewhere to her right, and imposed on herself the same feeling of calm she showed at all times, even when reporting on fires, murder, or riots in the street. The public expected it of her. Through the years, the control she had over her voice had grown absolute. She wasn't going to lose her cool for just a bunch of Grimm wanting to tear her to pieces. She found herself next to a stern looking building. There was a sturdy iron fence round it, with a large gate. Lisa looked up. The Schnee Dust Company logo was on a sign.

"Miss? Get to the front of the building. I'll open the gate for you."

Lisa nearly jumped out of her skin, but the voice on the loud speakers had been human.

"Okay!"

As she approached the iron gate, it started to move, until it was wide enough for her to slip through. It closed behind her with a satisfying _clang_.

"Head up to Reception Miss, I'll come and pick you up."

"Okay," said Lisa. She didn't know if the man inside could hear her. She walked up to a thick glass door, which slid open in front of her. A man in a black uniform was at the reception desk. He pressed the button and the door slid closed behind her. A sudden silence fell.

"Thank you," said Lisa.

The man stared at her, wide-eyed, as though she was a Grimm in human form. He tried to speak, coughed, tried again.

"You're... You're _her_!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're..." his voice lowered to a whisper. "Lisa Lavender."

"Uh, yes?"

"I'm your... I, um." He took a breath. "I really admire your work, Miss Lavender." 

 

The night porter, named Joseph de Bruin by his name tag, stood in front of Lisa. He turned his cap round and round in his hands, and frankly, Lisa wished he would stop. Finally, he found his voice.

"Um, can I get you something?"

"Pardon me?"

"Coffee maybe?"

Lisa closed her eyes a moment, and saw again how her cameraman was torn in two by the Gryphon. She slammed her eyes open, shivering. Lisa took a breath. What had been his name? He was new to VNN. Andrews, that was it, Sye Andrews. What a way to start your career.

"Are you cold Miss? I can turn up the heat, but it takes a while to heat up, damn thing's been on the blink since Summer. How about a nice hot cup of coffee? Not the stuff from the machine, that tastes like bitumen dissolved in... um. I've got the pot on. I'll get you a nice hot mug. Sit down. I'll be right back."

Lisa found herself gently ushered onto a sofa. Joseph the night porter scuttled off, to return a few moments later with a big mug of hot, steaming coffee.

"Here you are Miss, nothing like a hot drink to put the colour back on your cheeks. Careful, it's hot."

"Thank you," said Lisa. She blew on the coffee and took a small sip. Night shift people know what's important in coffee. Black. Strong. Bitter. Lisa recognised the taste from the many times she and Cyril had burnt the midnight oil getting some story out.

There was a loud screech, and a shadow flitted through the forecourt. Lisa shrank into a small ball, almost spilling her cofee. She tried but she couldn't stop shaking. Joseph kneeled in front of her, one hand on her shoulder, the other steadying her cup.

"I've had a fair bit of that Miss, They haven't found me yet, and I can always run to the vault if they do. Don't you worry about those bastards Miss Lavender. Unless Death Stalkers or Nevermore show up, they won't get you."

Lisa closed her eyes, but that brought on the screams and the sight of blood, so she opened them again and for the first time looked straight into Joseph's kind, worried eyes. She sighed, steeled herself.

"I'm fine."

Joseph stood up. "I think I know what you need, Miss Lavender. Hang on."

Lisa watched him walk to the reception desk and open the bottom drawer. He reached all the way in and pulled out a bottle. He picked up a paper cup and poured in some brown liquid not entirely unlike tea. He brought the cup back to Lisa.

"Here Miss Lavender, have some of this. Dirk uses this to warm himself on cold nights. He's home sick with his troubles so I can't ask him, but I'm sure he won't mind."

Lisa took the cup. Alcoholic fumes were rising from it. After a deep breath, she poured the spirit down her throat. She could feel it burning all the way down to her stomach, where it exploded into a warm glow that slowly spread all the way through her. She coughed.

"Dirk is a _masochist_ ," said Lisa, handing the cup back to Joseph.

"Don't rightly know what he believes, Miss Lavender. Though he does a lot of swearing."

Joseph hesitated a moment, then sat down on the sofa next to Lisa.

"I've seen all your newscasts, Miss Lavender. Every one of them."

"Really? All of them?"

"Yes, Miss. I record them on my scroll for use on long lonely watches. Really keeps me going. Sometimes I play them on the announcement screen, though I can't do that when there's people around."

"You, er, like them, do you?" Lisa had her fair share of fanmail, some nice and heartwarming, others... less so. Some of them requested changes to her style of clothing. One of them had requested no clothing at all. Cyril had laughed at that one, and suggested she frame it. Lisa had binned it instead.

"Love them, Miss. There's so much bad news to give these days, but when you do it, it's always like it'll be allright in the end. It's your voice, Miss Lavender. You always sound so..." He took a breath. "Like you know what's going on. I mean, there's all this horrible stuff going on, but when you tell me about it, somehow, it doesn't seem too bad."

Lisa smiled. "Thank you." She'd shown some of her fan leters to her colleague Megan at VNN, who had retired three months ago. 'Oh yes,' she'd said. 'I get those too, even at _my_ age. I try to see it as a compliment. At least we don't do conferences. Can you imagine? Those girls have to meet all those fans, and wonder whether they are climbing their mast to pictures of them.' Megan had a way with words.

"It really amazes me how you keep going Miss," said Joseph. "You have to look at all the ugly parts of Humanity and Faunity. If I'd have to do that, I'd have crawled in a bottle years ago and never come out. But here you are."

"It isn't easy," said Lisa.

She had reported on her fair share of heart-wrenching stories. Protests. Fires. She had stood by large groups of footsore and bedraggled refugees from villages destroyed by Grimm, in her neat clothes. she had walked through places where the stench of death was heavy in the air, trying not to see the dead bodies. She'd never been in actual warzones, because that was an entire new level of messed up. The men who did that, very few women there, they all had this faraway stare in their eyes, suggesting that whatever filth they reported, there was worse out there.

But it wasn't all gloom and doom. Lisa had been back stage at an Achieve Men benefit content, her heart all a-flutter and a blush on her cheeks, because she was, after all, human. She'd been one of the first to learn that Michael's wife was expecting, the news just bursting out of the boy. Off the record. She'd only told Cyril and they had immediately agreed to let young Michael pop the news himself. She'd interviewed Glynda Goodwitch of Beacon Academy one graduation day and come away deeply impressed and with a hope for the future that she hoped she'd passed on to the viewers. She'd covered Vytal festivals in Atlas and Mistral. She'd had a lovely chat with Patty Berdioler, author of a hugely popular series of _very_ racy books. So much nicer than her stint with Ursula Berpdioloo, who wrote Proper Literature for Serious Scholars that only the most determined of bookworms could gnaw their way through.

In the end, it balanced out. There wasn't anything Lisa would rather do. There always was the gnawing feeling that her best work hardly got any views, while her romp with Patty, where she had read out one of the love scenes in her prim correct reporter voice, had flown to the top of the charts in no time at all. ("Princess Mittsu cried out as he plunged his hardness into her moist and eagerly awaiting folds." That particular sound bite still occasionally came back to haunt her). 

 

"Oh, that one was just a bit of silliness," said Joseph. "Made me laugh, but the one I remember best is your one on Faunus Self Mutilation."

Lisa blinked. That had been one of her most difficult jobs, both practically and emotionally. Faunus didn't _like_ to talk to humans, not on a subject like this. It had taken Lisa months to find someone who would even admit that it happened.

Joseph stared at the wall. "That's when Faunus mothers take their children to some damn butcher, and they cut the poor little buggers' tails off, or their ears, so that people won't know that they're Faunuses. And I was thinking what kind of mother would _do_ such a thing? You have to be a monster to do that. And then you explained that they do it out of _love_. So they can live among Humans. So they won't get attacked in the streets, won't get beaten up. And I'm thinking, but they don't need to do that, they don't need to hide what they are, but they do. So who's the real monsters here?" Joseph looked at Lisa. "Thank you for that one, Miss Lavender. Gave me a whole new insight into what poor old Canus went through in his day." Joseph laughed. "And the one about the Vale Lifeboats. You got _soaked_. But you _still_ got the story out."

Oh, that one had been _fun_. They had been on a run out with the lifeboat Mona. Poor Cyril had spent most of the time below, making friends with a bucket, but Lisa's stomach was made of cast iron, and one of the sailors... well, more on _that_ story, later. 

 

There was a loud bang and Lisa looked round to see a small group of Grimm pressing against the glass trying to get in.

"Oh bugger off, ye sods," said Joseph. He turned to Lisa. "Don't you worry Miss. That's armored glass. Can keep out grenades. Schnee Dust Company don't like people helping themselves to their goods without paying."

"G-good," said Lisa, staring at the Grimm with wide open eyes. Eventually, they gave up and went away. Lisa looked at her feet, seeing nothing.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep, Miss? Hang on." He picked up his large duffel coat and put it over her. Lisa lay down, but didn't dare close her eyes. Whenever she did, images came back. She looked up.

"Joseph?"

"Yes Miss?"

"Could you... um. Sit down with me?"

"Uh... yes, of course."

Joseph sat down on one end of the sofa, and Lisa moved up against him, pulled the duffel coat over her. After a reassuring look, it's okay, he put his arm round her shoulders.

"Joseph?"

"Yes Miss?"

"Thank you. If I'd have stayed out there, I'd be Grimm food by now. You saved my life."

"My pleasure Miss Lavender."

"Call me Lisa."

Lisa settled down again. They were all going to die. Cuddling up next to your biggest fan wasn't the worst way to spend your last night.

"Me mum is never going to believe me when I tell her."

Lisa gave a little chuckle. "Got your scroll?"

"Yes, Miss Lisa."

Lisa sat up straight, ran her fingers through her hair. It fell easily into shape, except for the little rebellious tuft that always seemed to escape and that she couldn't bring herself to snip off. She put her arm round Joseph's shoulders.

"Then pull it out and use it."

Joseph snapped a few pictures, and Lisa lay back down. Joseph looked at the scroll. Shook his head.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Here you are, just won a race with a sodding Gryphon, saw people die, you're tired, you've _got_ to be scared, and still you look like this."

Lisa smiled, took a deep breath. "It's a knack."

It was more than a knack. Lisa Lavender was quite a different woman from _VNN Lisa Lavender_. It was a persona. A role. VNN Lisa Lavender was a construct Lisa had spent all her working life perfecting until now, she was made of steel. VNN Lisa Lavender was a place to escape to when Lisa wanted to break down and cry at the ugly sides of the world she reported on. You couldn't do that on camera. You were there to report. You represented the truth. Once while she was filming, some half drunk yahoo had walked up to her from behind, pulled her back, kissed her full on the face and cheered. VNN Lisa Lavender only raised an eyebrow while her crew dealt with the hoodlum, then completed her story. Cyril had cut the event out with extreme prejudice, but someone had leaked it onto the CCTS. Now that the CCTS was down, it would probably be gone forever. Small mercies. 

 

Lisa closed her eyes, and put her head on Joseph's shoulder. She sniffed, frowned.

"Joseph? The soap you're using."

"Yes Miss Lisa?"

"Is it _lavender_ scented?"

Being her biggest fan was one thing. Dedicating every part of his life to things Lavender was, well, mildly worrying.

"Yes Miss," said Joseph. "My mum got me a bottle for my birthday. As a kind of a joke, on account of me always rabbiting on about you. But I sort of liked the smell, so I kept buying it."

"Oh. Good," said Lisa. "Wouldn't want to spend the last night of my life with a crazy person."

Joseph laughed, not in any way crazy.

"I've heard every one of your words ten times over, Miss Lisa. And I'm going to hear all the words that are still to come. Ain't no Grimm going to come here and eat us."

"How do you know?"

"Grimm are drawn by bad thoughts." Joseph reached out and pulled his duffel coat over Lisa's shoulder. "And right here, right now, I honestly can't think of any. Just you try to get some sleep now, and it'll be better in the morning."

Lisa pulled up her feet. Moved a bit closer. She closed her eyes, and after a few minutes, exhausted from the whole day, fell asleep. 

* * *

 

"The CCTS is still down. Engineers assure us that they are working round the clock with their counterparts in Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo to restore communications as soon as possible. The Atlas Military and our own Hunters have succeeded in driving back the Grimm from the greater part of Vale City, though the area around Beacon Academy is still a no-go area. It is clearly marked, so please, for your own safety, stay away. Miss Glynda Goodwitch assures me that any looters will be harshly dealt with. The Grimm Threat remains at Amber. Grimm are drawn by negative thoughts, so it would seem prudent to banish from your minds thoughts of anger, fear, and hatred." VNN Lisa Lavender looked straight into the camera, one of her very rare smiles on her lips. "It has been speculated that Grimm are actively repelled by happy, positive thoughts. While I have only little information, I feel that more research into this subject is certainly justified. Back to you, Cyril." 

 

Dirk came walking up carrying two steaming mugs of hot coffee.

"Ah. It's your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend, Dirk," said Joseph, accepting his coffee.

"She does look pretty. Used to hate those bright coloured hair dyes, plastic people and all that, but she wears it well, and it goes with the name."

"She was here last night," said Joseph. "Got separated from her crew and ran right up to our gates."

Dirk gave Joseph a weary stare.

"Look lad, I know it gets lonely up here, and I know you've got the hots for her, but I really don't want to hear about your little private fantasies."

"It wasn't no fantasy! She was right here! Right here on the couch!"

Dirk put down his mug and leant over to Joseph. "Did you give the pretty young thing the night of her life?"

"No! Me mom raised me better than to take advantage of a woman in her hour of need. I did give her some of your hooch, though."

Dirk shook his head, laughing quietly. "Look lad. I don't mind you having the occasional drop from the bottle. You're blue button enough so you won't polish it off. No need to make up stories."

Joseph looked down into the bin. The cup with Miss Lisa's lipstick on it smiled at him. He half reached into his pocket to pull out his scroll, then thought better of it. Sod him.

"Thanks Dirk," said Joseph. He reached for the television to rewind Miss Lisa's segment. 


End file.
